Sunday on tour

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Sunday

We had three godchildren left to visit so we started early while it was quite a distance to drive. Well, maybe the distance was not that far but it still took an hour to go there.
Joville Dave was home with her mother and sisters. They lived in the same simple environments as all the other but here they had floor because the house was standing on pillars. I guess it was because of floodwater that now and then could come. We was invited inside and talked with a very polite 11 years old girl. Within minutes the room and the entrance was crowded like if we where celebrities. We took some pictures of all the kids and show the result on the camera screen. The effect was massive. They screamed of laughter and could not believe their eyes. It must have been magic. As we left and said goodbye we where followed all the way to the van by the crowd. Berit alias “mother Theresa” could not resist not giving a pencil to each and all of them. They once again expressed their true joy of the simple gift.

On our way to Christian we passed a small church with a crowd of visitors. Our Mr. EmEm seemed to know everybody, so he honked the horn and waved to the people. He is a very popular man our Mr. EmEm. I have renamed him to JungleJim as we drive mostly through jungle like areas. Mr. EmEm is a head commander of a guard force for the local communities northwest of Panabo. He has 7 chief officers under his command and they order direct under the police-authorities. The goal with this guard force is to keep law and order and to be present in the communities. Anyway, our JungleJim will probably run for election to be the next major in Panabo. For all the people he knows and all what he does through Mariphil and by himself I will not be surprised that the next mayor will be JungleJim.

Finally we stopped at Christians home. The godchild who lives the longest distance away from the Projecthouse. The house was empty so as we were about too leave the mother came walking down the road with three or four children behind her. The home was fairly nice with a porch covering the entrance. Christian was a shy little fellow. The picture that we had has given us already an impression of what kind of boy he was. In his case it was spot on. A little soldier ready to do whatever it takes. I think his mother showed us during our stay how proud she was. She fought all time to keep her tears away and trough her laughter we sensed a happiness for the support they receive. Also here we where followed to the van but only of the mother. She was true grateful and thanked us all the way to our van. We left the small village of Kauswagan and headed for home.

I have reflected more than once during our miles on the bumpy roads. How is it possible for this old van not to fall apart? So of course it happened. After 40 minutes on our way back the plug for the oil under the motor had shaken lose. We had luck. We stopped shortly to orient us in a crossing and backed up a few meters. Only to see the strain of oil we left on the road. JungleJim stopped the engine and climbed out of the van. He witnesses the last half a liter dripping out of the motor. On the road behind us it was a nice trail of oil telling people where we had gone. So 500 meters more and the van had been history, well at least the motor. But the time had not come for our van. We decided to walk to a nearby village while JungleJim tried to fix an alternative transport. The sun was biting. A breeze you worldwide know as cool was hotter than we ever experienced. Well we could not complain, as we walked through neighborhood with people sitting on the ground in lack of furniture’s. We reached, sweaty the village and meet some of the people we meet yesterday. Surprisingly our JungleJim turned up in his guard forcetruck. A miniature of a truck with two seats in front and some benches on the small loading area in the back. We hopped in and on and droved the few kilometers to our home. The bumpy road felt even more bumpy with this car. But we reached home with a bit of soar rears.

Time for the daily trip to the town. Unfortunate our guide did not have time to drive us because he had to prepare the celebration later this day. We where offered to take JungelJim’s guard force-truck and drive ourselves. No problem I thought, as long as I can fit into the driver cabin. I tried and with a few adjustment of the leg position I could also handle the pedals, in a way. Berit was more concerned about the whole situation and afraid of the traffic in the city. After all, the traffic jam was like in Bombay during rush-hour. I on the other hand was more concerned about the stony roads and the event of a flat tire.

Before we took of there was some guy wanting to have a lift. This need or whish was soon replaced by fear when he realized that he had to lift with aliens. The 30 year-something man refused and said he would stay a little bit longer. So we drove off alone. We had the feeling that the jungle telegraph had informed that some white people forced their big bodies into a mini-minivan. People stood along the bumpy road and almost applauded us passing through. Normally I would have gone faster, to avoid eye contact with all, but the fear of having body parts shaken loose was grater, so we continued our 15 km/hour drive with a fake smile.

Blessed be a road with concrete we both said when we turned on the junction leading to the city. Fore five minutes we went trough our bodies to feel if every vital organ was there and still operating. Imagine; the heat in this small fish tank was probably 50 dgr. Celsius and we haven’t reflected on that at all. That’s some of the wonders by Mother Nature; always instinctly prioritize the main need or concern.

We realized we came closer to the city when the one lane street was used by double sets of vehicles. Berit cried for help and suggested we could park here and walk the rest of about 2 km. After all, she said, it’s a lot of things to see along the walk. I refused and drove on.

The animal in me woke up and the position in the cage changed. From upright to slightly bending forward. The grip of the steeringwheel went from firm to squeeze tight. My cap was turned and I was prepared to take on the traffic game “survival of the fittest”.
The first challenge was to interact with the main junction from the small feeding street. Which, by now was no longer a street with rules. Ten cars, one truck, two busses, sixty-seven tricycles with or without passengers and God know how many two-wheelers. I was in line 6 having the 5th row. A roar like the start of a Formula 1. All looking at left waiting for the right moment to make moves. Than, all of a sudden there was a gap, big enough to swallow a bus. The roar increased and the fight was on. From my position I try to go left and out speed the stupid driver in front of me causing at the moment, a major jam. (My subjective opinion) I gain several places and was now somehow on the main road leading south. The horns in my forehead were growing as I was to cross three lines to be able to make a left-turn. Normally a left-turn on a heavily trafficked road causing stop in the left lane is deadly. But here everybody are prepared, at least we hope they where. Now leading my lane, the left one and trying to find the signal to show the hundred drivers behind that I’m going left was not easy. I find some stick on the right of my steering wheel and bend it towards the windshield. Stepped on the brake and closed my eyes and hoped that it had worked. No accident only hundred horns honking and wishing me luck trying to cross the motorway with towards coming traffic. I found a gap and with the pedal to the metal we rushed across the 4 lane road. At this moment Berit was speechless. She wanted us to park right now, as we passed a parking area for taxi-tricycles. I went on and parked instead in front of the internet café.

We are sorry that we don’t have any pictures of this event but all our hands were busy doing something else.

After a few hours in different stores we went home to prepare for the graduate party. Berit did not shop, probably still shaky after the traffic or concerned of us going back. The trip home was easier in a mysterious way. Maybe they all have heard about the White Guy in his imaginable McLaren-car, and made space for it.

We were picked up at half past six and went 40 minutes to Mr. EmEm’s home. All members of family and friends were already there. The wife and some friends served us local food and we enjoyed the hospitality. The night ended with karaoke and of course I had to sing some Creedence songs. The polite audience applauded and we thanked so much for the hospitality and were given a ride home together with eight others. We did not need any lullaby to sleep this night……..

More adventure to come…
Berit and Alf

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Photos

Phillipinen 155
A very polite girl with great ambitions..

Phillipinen 161
Christian with his gift

Phillipinen 158
Mr. EmEm alias JungleJim in his own hight person

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Mr. Alf before the "traffic game" still smiling relaxed

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Leaving the city for now

Berits kamera 415
Hello you white people, he shout and waved..

Phillipinen 167
The graduationparty with the student in the middle in front

Phillipinen 169
The second settings of a total of six. We had to eat in smaller groups so we could all have some space to handle a fork without danger to other

Comments

[Helmut Glocker]

Strange, that the old Van is still running...
Hello Berit, hello Alf its a wonder, that the old Van is still running but it's getting worse. In november the motor was destroyed because of lack of oil, so You were lucky. But for "JungleJim" it was no problem to get a mechanic to fix it again. Thank god, that the car didn't break down in the middle of nowhere. By the way - there is a link to Your blog on the Mariphil-Homepage. So everybody can read about Your survival trip. Bye Helmut